


Appetiser

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh how she'd missed this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appetiser

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood for almost totally angstless PWP, so that's what this is. No loftier ambitions here. ;) Probably the most plotless PWP I've done to date. Thanks to the lovely Requialexa for the beta.

  
She wasn’t expecting anybody behind the door.

She thought that she’d been home alone. She was back a little early from work, since it was her turn to cook dinner and she’d thought to have it done or started before the Doctor got home. There was no sign of him in the flat and the bathroom door wasn’t locked. She’d only headed for the room to check her hair and freshen up in the first place. No harm in trying to look good for him, even if they were taking things almost painfully slow with their relationship since they’d come back together.

It was almost like early days on the TARDIS, dancing around each other, just with a bit less travelling through time and space. It was both kind of nice that there wasn’t the pressure to resume their relationship exactly as it was _before_ , and also exceedingly frustrating. Weeks after she’d found him again, of living with him again, and her desire for him was almost a literal ache. But they’d agreed it was for the best if they waited until they’d relearned each other and adjusted to life together before complicating things further.

They both flirted relentlessly, though, delighted in teasing one another. And those ends were best served by her taking a bit more than a passing interest in her appearance. She didn’t want to look haggard from a long day at work when he came home.

He was already home, though. Right on the other side of the bathroom door.

She yelped when she saw him, leaning against the counter. Fully dressed but for his undone trousers, held up by his hips pressed against the white tile behind him, his eyes closed in pleasure as he… pleasured himself with his hand, wrapped in a tight fist.

He gasped a split second after her sound of surprise and hastily grabbed a towel to cover himself.

She meant to apologise, to back away and close the door, to give him his private time. But all she could do was stare. From his eyes to the comically pink towel back to his eyes again–which showed vague panic and that he was desperately thinking. There was a brief moment of silence before he began characteristically babbling.

“Rose! This isn’t what it looks like. No, that’s clearly not true. It’s exactly what it looks like. Only it’s… I’m… this body, it’s much more demanding than my last and I know we agreed, but it’s been difficult being so close and yet not–” He looked at her helplessly, his eyes pleading. “If it helps, I was thinking of you.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. Guffawed, actually. Clutched the door for support as the absurdity of the situation rolled through her. Never in a million years did she think that the Doctor would ever be standing in front of her, erection covered by a pink towel, defending his masturbating, because they weren’t getting any.

“Rose, this is hardly funny.”

At that she made a supreme effort to school her features into the picture of sobriety. She knew she didn’t quite manage it.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry,” she finally apologised.

“Thank you,” he said impatiently. “Now, do you mind?”

She made a decision just then. Though, she supposed she’d actually made it the second she didn’t immediately retreat from the room. Enough was enough.

“Rose?”

She answered by taking a step towards him. Then another. The panic in his eyes returned, but this time coupled with something else entirely.

“Rose, what are you doing? Honestly, this is embarrassing enough without…”

She plucked the towel from his grasp.

“What are you doing?” he repeated, spluttering.

“I’m helping,” she said before sliding her fingers over his cock, lightly stroking.

His eyed first widened and then slammed shut as he gripped the counter behind him and almost whimpered her name. “But we agreed. Taking it slow. More time.” The last was gasped out as she tightened her grip.

“We did.” She leaned up to plant a kiss on the slight stubble covering his chin as she set a rhythm. “But it’s a bit silly, yeah? Running around and pretending we don’t really want…” she sighed, frustrated with how to voice it. She settled on, “I think I’m done waiting. You?”

“Yes!” he hissed and she wasn’t sure if he was answering the question or appreciating the movements of her hand.

Growing impatient herself, she slipped her other hand up into his hair and pulled his head to hers for a proper kiss. He responded hungrily at the first touch of her lips, immediately thrusting his tongue in to meet hers. She groaned at the sensation, so similar to what she remembered, but not quite the same. His unique taste and technique, things she’d relived for years in her memory, were unchanged. But he was warmer and his actions were underlain with an urgency they’d never had before.

He clutched her hips and she sped up her hand and he deepened the kiss even further. Oh how she loved this–missed this–driving him out of control. She was thankful for his tight grip on her as desire swept through her, weakening her knees, and her mind skipped ahead to what they could be doing later, how his hands and mouth might be put to other uses. Her rhythm faltered.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded, suddenly curious, and wanting to retain the upper hand in this, so to speak.

“What?”

“Before I walked in on you.”

“You,” he gasped.

“Yeah, and?” she prodded.

“M-making love,” he began slowly, struggling to get the words out. “Being inside you. How your… your legs feel wrapped around me. How much I missed that sound you make when you–”

It was her turn to whimper.

“Not quite that one,” he choked out, a hint of a smug smile playing at his mouth.

She added a little twist to her wrist on the upstroke and slid her hand even faster over him and his mouth went slack.

“Rose,” he breathed, “gonna…”

Understanding, she reached for the discarded towel with the hand that had been in his hair. She could see and feel the tension in his body as he attempted to keep relatively still. His grasp on her hips became almost painful. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. She leaned up and slid her lips over his again, but he was too close to the edge to respond. Seconds later, his hips jerked and she felt him pulse in her hand as his orgasm rushed through him.

“Fuck,” he whispered against her lips as she coaxed him through his release, slowly bringing her hand to a stop beneath the towel.

He pried his fingers from her and returned his hands to the counter behind him as he sagged against it catching his breath. He let her clean him up and tuck him back in his trousers without further comment.

She slowly raised her eyes to his to find him staring at her intently, his gaze unreadable.

“You never used to curse when you came,” she said, trying for levity.

He gave a short laugh. “Things change.”

“Yeah… understatement,” she observed, stepping back a pace, suddenly feeling more than a little awkward. Her body was screaming for him still, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject when he was standing there so still, making no move toward her, his eyes on her causing her to flush with more than just desire.

The shift in his expression was subtle; it only showed in his eyes, but she recognized it immediately. He was no longer simply regarding her, but sizing her up like a predator would his prey. She felt completely in his power now, at his mercy, and she realised, watching him as his eyes finally slid down her body, that she wanted that more than anything right now–wanted him to take control of her the way she had him.

She licked her lips. And then he was on her, launching himself from the counter and shoving her against the cold glass of the shower door. His lips attacked hers, less distracted, more purposeful than before. His hands deftly found the zip on her trousers and shoved the garment past her hips and off so he could grasp the flesh of her ass, pulling her nearly off her feet.

She wrenched her mouth from his and he growled against her at the loss. She tried to get words out, to explain that she needed them both naked and possibly horizontal _immediately_ , but his lips, now blazing fiery kisses along her neck, proved too distracting for the speech part of her brain to click over.

“What?” he asked, sounding now completely calm and collected as he set to unbuttoning her bloused and following the path of newly revealed skin with his mouth.

She groaned, sought again for words. “Mouth,” she managed. “Good.”

“Mine?” he chuckled, pulling a lacy bra cup away from her overheated skin and wrapping his lips around a hard nipple, pulling and teasing.

“Guhyes.” She flailed a bit, looking for purchase behind her and finding only unyielding glass. They needed to move this, but if it meant even a second without contact, it wasn’t worth it.

She gripped his shoulders trying to communicate. “Buh…” she moaned out as her other breast received the same treatment.

“But?” he asked, pausing to look up at her. There was a flash of uncertainty there.

She shook her head vigorously.

“Bed?” he guessed, straightening.

She threw her arms around his neck in answer. He smiled warmly at her then, the first proper smile she’d seen since this all began. His mouth dove for hers again and he encouraged her to wrap her legs up around his hips as he supported her bum. She clung to him desperately as he carried her the handful of steps towards the bedroom and then deposited her rather ungracefully on the bed.

Clad as she was in only an askew bra, knickers, and an unbuttoned blouse, she briefly considered how unfair it was that he was still entirely clothed. Even his blue suit jacket was done up.

He loomed over her, standing at the foot of the bed as she leaned back on her elbows, knees bent and spread, not caring how wanton she looked. He climbed over her, pushing her legs flat as he straddled her, planting his knees alongside her thighs, keeping just high enough above her so that that was their bodies’ only point of contact. She leaned up and he pulled at her shirt and with her help, divested her of it, then tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, followed by her bra.

“Rose,” he whispered, his voice gravely with desire.

“Doctor,” she answered, raising a hand to his face, cupping his cheek with her palm. He watched her carefully as she trailed that hand down over his chest, pausing only to undo the one button that held his suit jacket closed on her quest. But when she reached where he was hard again already wanting to touch him again, he swiped her hand away.

She laid back and whined wordlessly. Frustrated, she tried to raise her hips, but he placed a warm palm flat on her belly, commanding that she be still. He slid down her body then, placing moist kisses where his palm had been. When he reached the barrier of her knickers, his lips just at their elastic top, he paused.

“Tell me,” he said hooking his fingers beneath the material at each hip, “what else is good about my mouth, what you’d like me to do with it.” His breath came hotly over her, so close to where she needed him, but still so teasingly far.

She shook her head at him again and watched him raise his eyebrows at her.

“Later,” she said.

“I told you what I was thinking, Rose,” he pointed out.

“I’m thinking clothes off, and you inside me, now.” She struggled to remember what else he’d said he’d been fantasising about. “… And my legs wrapped around you, making that sound you like. Please,” she added for good measure.

He gaped at her for a moment, his eyes glazing with want. “Right,” he said, and then he spurred into action, drawing her knickers off as he stood and shucked every stitch of his clothing in what must have been record time.

In seconds he was over her again, sliding naked between her thighs. He caught her gaze and, holding it, he slid a hand between them positioning himself and she felt him hot and hard and ready and just there, nudging at her entrance.

“Please,” she begged again and he wasted no more time, pushing inside her in one swift stroke.

She threw her head back, almost weeping with the pleasure, the pure perfection of this simple act they let get so complicated. Then he moved and there was nothing but how good it felt. He hit her perfectly every time he plunged within her and the coil of tension inside her tightened amazingly quickly.

She planted her feet on the mattress, raised her hips to meet his thrusts, but then remembering her words and wanting even more contact, she raised first one leg around his hip, then the other, locking her ankles at the small of his back. They groaned together at the change in angle and his thrusts quickly became less controlled, more frantic.

She was vaguely aware that she was muttering words, but had no idea what they might be. Begging, encouraging, or praying–all she knew was that she needed to come and was desperately close. He somehow kept her at the edge without letting her fall for longer than she thought was even possible, the pleasure just mounting higher and higher as she sought the pinnacle.

And then she _was_ falling, and for a moment she was hyperaware of everything: the racing thud of her heart, the wet slide of him within her, the panting of their mingled breath, the sound of skin meeting skin. And she shattered, her muscles spasming, clenching so strongly it was almost pain. The rush swept through her, rushing out from her centre through her limbs with a white-hot liquid fire, and she cried out, clutching the Doctor to her.

“Thank you,” she heard him mutter, and he sped up, thrusting wildly, blindly seeking his own release. In only a few more strokes, he went rigid above her and gasped out her name as he came, burying his head in her shoulder and then shuddering against her.

She let her ankles unlock and her legs fell back to the mattress. He collapsed spinelessly against her, his body a warm, comfortable weight. She slid her hands through his damp hair and over his back soothingly as their hearts slowed together back to normal.

“Did I make the sound?” she asked after a moment.

“Oh yes,” he answered, raising his head and kissing her before shifting off her onto his side. “It was brilliant.”

She turned her head toward him. “Is that why you thanked me?”

He laughed outright at that, his eyes twinkling. “I thanked you for coming before I did.”

“Why?”

“Well it’d be a bit impolite, wouldn’t it? After…” he nodded in the direction of the loo.

She laughed and shifted on to her side as well so she could kiss him. “And you’re never rude,” she said, pulling back.

He smiled at her again and her stomach did a small flip. He ran a hand down along her arm, the side of her breast, down to her hip. They were both silent for a minute or two.

“Why’d we wait, Rose?” he asked. “We were together before, and you found me, and it’d been so long…” he trailed off.

She thought a moment, not wanting to spoil the moment with her answer. So she simply said, “When you’re in love with someone, yeah? And that person splits into two people? Things can get a _bit_ confusing.”

He considered. “Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word. “I can see how that might be.”

“Plus you were all… newly human…”

“ _Part_ human, thank you,” he corrected.

“Newly part human,” she allowed.

“Right, well, I have a request.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s not do that again.”

She frowned. “Get meta-whatsitted?”

“Go weeks without. It was getting painful. All right?”

She pretended to ponder his request.

“Rose!”

“So the next time we’re separated for years, we shag right away?”

“Mmm,” he agreed, tugging her closer and burying his nose in her hair. “Can you imagine? We’d have scandalised that Dalek. And Donna. And Jack.”

“Not Jack,” she pointed out, murmuring sleepily against him.

“No, you’re right. He’d have paid good money to see that.”

She mumbled her agreement against his chest as the drowsiness began to pull her under in earnest.

Just as she drifted off, she heard his fierce whisper against her, “I’ll never let that happen, you know, being separated for years. Not ever again.”

Then, when only a handful of minutes could have passed, he shook her gently. “Oi! Don’t sleep too long. It’s your turn to make dinner.”

 

FIN  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
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